


Submission

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: Barista’s Spicy Treats [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage/Blindfolds, Consensual Bondage/Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Dominant!Reader, F/M, Reader-Insert, incubus!Akira, submissive!Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: They say that bonds are powerful; they withstand the test of time, trial and error.Your bond with Akira would surely see you through the toughest of storms, through the good times and bad times.Akira has taught you a different meaning of the word “bonds.”He just never thought you’d show him what he taught you.Or that you’d enjoy indulging him in such a lesson.





	Submission

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for lonely--rolling--star on Tumblr. Much thanks for placing this spicy order, Star.

A hand. Five fingers. A palm.

That was what he felt oh so gently tracing the curvature of his jaw, followed by nails trailing a path down his throat, ghosting over his windpipe. His Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed a gulp, one that he swore was the size of a baseball.

Beads of sweat trailed down from his crown, causing noiret strands to stick to his perspiring skin as his breathing hitched every now and then. A void shielded his vision, more specifically… What had once been a part of his shirt covered his eyes, momentarily taking away his sight; thus, his other senses were working overtime to make up for his temporary loss of vision.

And yet… And yet…

He hissed a seething breath past the strip of cloth that was tied between his lips, unconsciously tugging lightly at the light restraints that kept his hands where they were: stretched over his head, bound to the headboard.

If he wanted to, he could break free of the damned bindings that restricted his freedom, that kept his movements in place with laughable ease, but…

He was forbidden from doing so.

He could remember the words you whispered into his ear, sounding as smooth and succulent as honey, a mixture of warm affection and lustful promises edging every word, every syllable you uttered.

_“Now, now… Don’t move; don’t fidget. Be a good boy, and I_ may _consider loosening the bindings, my handsome devil.”_

How…

 _How_ could your sweet, angelic voice sound so much like a purring cat, crooning as it was in heat?

Still…

There was a bittersweet irony to be found in the situation he currently found himself in. A situation in which he found himself to be bound, robbed of his ability to move. A situation in which his sight was taken away from him, however momentarily it was.

Because…

It wasn’t _him_ who would be blindfolded.

It wasn’t _him_ who would be bound to the headboard, unable to move.

It wasn’t _him_ who would be lying on the bed he laid on, desperate for his partner’s touch.

Except for his underwear and his jeans, he was nude from the waist up, however…

The sensation of a finger trailing a gentle, languid path down his throat, down his collarbone, down his lightly muscled chest, down his stomach, and down to where his “treasure trail” peeked out from the hem of his jeans… It caused his body to tremble with a delightful shiver, and he felt a few stray droplets of sweat run down his cheek.

Instinctively, he all but purred like a kitten that had just been stroked by its owner at long last.

It felt like it had been hours since he’d last felt your touch, however tender and short-lived it may have been, hitching in a breath as he felt the most gentle of kisses being slowly, lovingly peppered along his jaw, on his cheeks. He felt another hand, one that was slowly, carefully undoing the button of his jeans, followed by the zipper being tugged down.

In all honesty, to his perspective, it felt like it had been a lifetime since he felt your fingers, your lips, your body pressing against his, your—

“ _Nnh!_ ”

He hitched in a breath upon feeling two sensations.

The first was the feeling of your hand sliding back up his body, your fingers seeking out and idly toying with a taut nipple.

The second was feeling a puff of warm breath wafting across his neck, a brief puff of air that hit the hot, shivering skin as it ghosted over where his jugular vein was.

He drew in a short breath, a breath that was slightly muffled due to the small sphere of cloth that was stuffed between his lips, moist with his saliva.

“Now, now… _What_ did I say earlier, hm~?”

Akira seethed as much as the gag permitted him to, feeling his jaw becoming set as his molars ground against each other.

The loss of his vision amplified everything he felt, everything he could hear. Your voice, the sugarcoated words you cooed into his ear, your touch, how your body oh so carefully pressed and ground against his own. He felt the smooth roundness of your breasts through the fabric of the bra you wore; he felt the damp heat where the v-shaped juncture between your legs was, protected only by the thin barrier of your underwear.

He grit his teeth as he unconsciously bucked his hips up, causing you to shift and bounce ever so slightly. The sensation of the damp feeling that he swore he could feel through the godforsaken confines of his jeans, his underwear. That damn and wonderful liquid, liquid that he knew was creating the warm moisture that he wanted to taste on his tongue, that he wanted to stain his lips and fingers.

“Well, darling… Won’t you answer your beloved kitten, please~?”

Again, he seethed as best as he could past the makeshift gag that was still in his mouth, settling for glaring indignantly instead.

A simpering sigh left your mouth as, seemingly interested in what your live-in boyfriend had to say, you raised your hands towards his face. He felt the tips of your fingers gently diving past the edge of the strip of cloth that veiled his sight, that was tied around the back of his head, slowly pulling it down to reveal crimson irises that glinted in the dimly lit darkness of the bedroom you and Akira shared.

Finally, he felt slim digits—all five of them—enter his mouth, slowly withdrawing the small ball of cloth from his mouth. Strings of spit glistened on the cloth ball as it was removed, lines of saliva shone on your fingers and between, and the trails of moisture shimmered in the rays of moonlight before it was nonchalantly tossed aside in some dark corner of the room.

Akira took a few moments to breathe in and out, slowly and deeply, before his lips parted to respond.

“Stop kidding around. You said you wouldn’t-”

“Take it this far, I know, but… Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you were the one who agreed to this, isn’t that right?”

Once again the frizzy-haired demon was struck silent, his jaw became set as his teeth ground against each other. It was true. He wouldn’t deny that, yes, he had agreed to this set-up from the beginning. He had given you his express consent to be tied up, to be blindfolded, to be gagged—all because you wanted to have him at _your_ mercy for a change, and not the other way around as was the norm.

And yet… And yet…

There was a sick sense of joy to be found in being at his beloved’s mercy for once. He would be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him, and a very small part of him at that, that relished in being relentlessly teased by your subtle and skilled hands. He would be lying if he claimed that, no, he did not enjoy being mercilessly hounded for attention.

He would be lying if he said that, no, he did not enjoy the feeling of his cloth bindings pulling at his wrists, pulling coarsely on the skin of his wrists as he unconsciously fidgeted, quietly demanding to be released, yet knowing that he wouldn’t be moving an inch without your say-so.

He would be lying if he told you that, no, he did not derive any pleasurable sensations in knowing that whatever happened here, in the bedroom, whatever happened to him in the dead of night, on the bed you and him shared every single night…

It would be decided by your hands, and only your hands.

If you wanted to bruise his hips, he would let you.

If you wanted to switch between cooing sugarcoated praise or hissing the most pure, sinful filth into his ears, he would let you.

If you wanted to alternate between kissing the markings on his wrists, while your hands worked unbelievable magic on the leaking slit of his cock, he would let you.

“…Akira, please… If you’re not willing to take it any further, tell me, okay? I’ll switch…”

Your voice had lost its teasing croon, lost the subtle purring edge, seduction and lust giving away to the kindhearted concern he knew so well.

Swallowing slowly, thickly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down with the motion, the noiret shook his head.

You watched as a playful smirk curled the corner of the young man’s lips, showing off a teasing glimpse of pearly whites that shone in the gloomy darkness that permeated the bedroom, complimenting the ruby red of his watchful leer.

“You underestimate this handsome devil, love,” he purred, sharply raising his hips up as he spoke.

He took a few moments to quietly rejoice in how you breathed a gasp, his eyes watching how your breasts bounced up and down, threatening to spill free from the cups of your brassiere, before falling to the v-shaped juncture between your legs.

“Believe me… When I’m free of these restraints… I will have you _sing_ for me, Treasure, and… I wouldn’t misbehave half as much if I didn’t like the punishment.”

Akira made his point even more clear by having his tongue dart out, licking his lips, bearing a wolfish grin that resulted in a chill to dance up and down your spine.

Even so… You would not be deterred.

So, you responded in due kindness by trailing your hands up and down his bare sides, your fingertips ghosting over Akira’s hot, shivering skin that glistened with sweat as you lowered yourself to whisper in his ear. Your fingers lightly tugged on the hem of his jeans, threatening to pull them down across his hips as you smiled.

“Perhaps you might hear a pretty song from me… Perhaps… _If you’re a good boy, that is_.”


End file.
